A Soft Refusal
by NeuroticMuse413
Summary: Mitchell brings home a mysterious vampire victim and discovers new ways to satisfy his thirst, as well as some emotions he didn’t know he had. When Annie walks in on them, the furniture takes a beating and more than feelings erupt. M/A, G/N, rated M.
1. Part One

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**A SOFT REFUSAL**

By NeuroticMuse413

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**DISCLAIMER:** Don't own Being Human though I wouldn't mind borrowing Mitchell for a night or two.

**SUMMARY:** Post Ep. 6. When Mitchell brings home a mysterious vampire victim, he discovers new ways to satisfy his thirst, as well as some emotions he didn't know he had. When Annie walks in on them, the furniture takes a beating and more than feelings erupt. Meanwhile, Nina struggles with telling George about her "condition" as he resorts to obsessive arts and crafts as a coping mechanism. M/A, G/N.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I'm not British so I'm sorry if I messed up the dialogue.

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**MITCHELL**

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George was being… George. Now that he and Nina were trying to get back on track as a "normal" couple, it meant Annie and I were out of a house on days when he wanted to get laid. He'd been trying to ask her to move in for days but she seemed intent on ignoring him. Poor bloke. I knew how he felt. I'd been cock-blocked for weeks.

I sat on the front step till midnight. I'd gotten dressed to leave but Annie grabbed onto my sleeve and shot me one of her deadly puppy dog looks and I was down for the count. Better, I suppose. Clubs didn't really get fun till after midnight.

"I was thinking of heading out to Club Grimm," I offered some time later, my hands buried deep in my leather jacket. She just looked up at me from the front step as she did every time I suggested leaving the house. At home, she seemed fine since she could always keep an eye on me. At home, I might as well be the neutered pet in the corner, playing dead, waiting for the masters of the house to realize I was starving.

"Do you really have to go tonight?" she asked softly. I saw bits of the old Annie showing through. Suddenly, it was gone and I instantly missed it. "I mean, you wouldn't die if you kept it in your pants for one measly night. I thought George was the wolf, not you."

I chuckled. "Is that what you think I'm doing every night? Shagging some random girl?"

"Well you're not feeding, are you? You look like shit," she answered bluntly. I laughed harder, bearing my teeth. "Let me guess! You go bowling. You're taking a Spanish class at the learning annex. You're—"

I put up a hand between us, gesturing her to stop. "I'm asking you to come with me, Annie. You can keep an eye on me then... I promise I won't bite."

She squinted her eyes up at me but her brow was still knit and her lips were purses crookedly in her special I'm-trying-to-secretly-tell-you-you're-being-a-prat sort of way. Then, that all melted when a couple passed behind us and her feelings were wiped off her face. She was left blank.

"They probably think you're talking to yourself," she said lightly, staring at them as they passed.

"What are you talking about?" I replied, snapping from her to the couple. They were huddled under an umbrella, giggling away in their own little world. "They can see you. I'm telling you. They can see you. Unless… you don't want them to?"

She faced away quickly. "Forget it, Mitchell. I'm going to pay a visit to my grave. That always cheers me up. You go ahead. Go bowling or whatever the kids are calling it these days."

I chuckled and waved her off. She was in one of her moods. Ghostly PMS, we'd labeled it. It hadn't really gone away in a while so I naturally imagined the worst, a trait learned from George. I pondered all the reasons why she'd be angry on the way to Club Grimm. Was she angry at me for killing Lauren? For making George kill Herrick? For bringing the entire vampire community on our little house?

Or, was she angry at me for missing her chance at death? She gave all that up for me, to stay by my side when I was hurt. She missed her train. I'd be mad as a fucking hatter if I were her. I'd probably condemned her to an eternity in purgatory. I knew this and I lived with it. It was just another chip on my shoulder.

I was about ready to vomit when I got into Club Grimm. They knew me at the door since I was there every other night. I just sat in a corner, drank my sludge like everyone else, and watched the girls dance. Okay, I imagined them naked, in my bed, bleeding from their delicate, swan-like necks… but I held back. I'd resisted for weeks.

So, when Lee walked in wearing a ripped, black dress, splattered in blood, I jumped to my feet. She sauntered across the club like a present, or maybe some cruel joke meant to test my resolve. Or, maybe, she was both. I watched from the shadows like the monster I was, my mouth salivating and my fangs threatening to emerge. I felt them stabbing at my lips, just ready for that will to drop. My eyes must have looked like black abysses but nobody really looked you in the eyes at Club Grimm.

I watched her cross the dance floor to the bar in the back and sit, staring as though in shock at the mirror behind the elaborate rows of wine bottles. I couldn't see her eyes but everything about her seemed cold and empty. She raised a trembling hand and ordered a shot of tequila. I guess it was too dark for others to see the blood, though it was smeared all about her arms as though she'd been holding onto someone.

I took a few steps closer, trying to focus on her smell. The blood was not hers, that was for sure. It was vampire blood – the blood held the subtle hints of decay unnoticeable to human senses – and she had a very steady heartbeat. I relaxed upon hearing its beat the closer I got. It meant she wasn't one of my kind. This wasn't meant for me, I prayed. They hadn't found me.

That's when I realized what she was. A victim, probably in more ways than one.

The walk to her felt like it took a year. The thirst was messing with my sense of time, of motion, more so than usual. It turned me into a hunter the instant she walked in and wasn't letting go quite yet. As I came up behind her, it took every ounce of my concentration to make sure I gripped her arm gently, not forcibly. Hunger did curious things to strength, no matter the being.

She was staring right at the spot in the mirror where I should have been but wasn't and still didn't react in the least. She'd definitely seen vampires before. What's more, it was like she was waiting for me to come to her. She didn't jerk away at my touch. I could feel something beneath the ripped sleeves of her dress, almost like wires stretched over her skin, and realized they were scars.

"Don't do it here. You'd only expose yourself," she whispered as though sure only I could hear her. When I didn't' respond, merely continued to gape at her reflection, she continued, "Just get over with then. Don't make me beg."

The music was blaring behind us to the rhythm of strobe lights so nobody noticed the vampire with no reflection and the blood-drenched girl at the bar. She talked straight at the piece of mirror where my image should have been. I didn't reply, too lost in concentration and shock at the proximity of all that beautiful blood.

Then, she shut her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth, preparing for something. She bent her neck slightly as though welcoming the bite. I noticed there were no scars there, no puncture wounds. I realized later that there wouldn't be. The neck was a place reserved for lovers, an intimate spot. She would not have been bitten there.

"You know what I am?" I growled instead, my eyes black as night. I didn't need a reflection to tell me that.

She nodded and gulped, her eyes still shut. She was so tiny in my arms. I had to press myself up behind her so she wouldn't fall off the bar stool. She was in delicate condition, even if the blood was not hers.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I whispered in her ear as calmly as I could, trying to hide the strain in my voice. "My name is Mitchell. I don't kill humans, I promise."

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of my name. She finally turned and faced me for an instant, just long enough to scare the death out of me. I swear I almost heard my heart beat again, as deafeningly loud as a thunderclap, and my ribs tightened painfully. Was it guilt over what had surely been done to this poor girl? Was it shame for what I was? Or… was it fear? I could never tell. Even to this day.

After that instant passed, her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed back onto my chest just as the bartender came back with her drink. Seeing her asleep in my arms, he finally paid attention to her state, to the rips and the blood, and probably began to panic.

"Is that blood?" he hissed at me, leaning over the bar with wild eyes. He cursed and reached under for a phone. I put a free hand up to stop him, carrying her in my other. Her head fell back over my arm, exposing her neck to me fully. My whole body shook.

"I've got it under control, Thomas," I told him. I was a frequent visitor to the club, after all. I had _some_ leverage. "I work at the hospital, remember? Let me take her and you guys can save yourselves the bad press."

He put down the phone and gave me a cautious nod. In other words, he didn't like it and knew he'd probably regret it later on, but he couldn't risk calling an ambulance and possibly a police car to a club where half the people on the dance floor were high on one drug or another.

I swallowed down the shot of tequila she'd ordered and threw her arm over my shoulder. I wrapped my other arm around her waist and lifted her up onto her feet. I was dragging her but nobody noticed in the lights. If anyone shot me a weary eye, I smiled at them reassuringly and they swiftly went back to ignoring us.

I carried her to the alley next to the club and sat her up on a high pile of crates. The bloodlust was getting easier as I realized she had no fresh wounds on her anywhere. I took her cheeks in my palms and brought her face to the steady light overhead. She obviously recognized my name but I didn't recognize her face. Though, that hardly meant anything since Herrick was killed. My name was on the lips of every vampire from Bristol to Edinburgh.

I tried to wake her, shook her a bit, but her heart was slow and calm and it almost hurt to disturb her. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. In some sense, she looked like me. I realized then that she was just a victim, meant to be pitied and cared for, not some offending specter from my past or a human weapon from my present foes.

If I just thought of her as a victim instead of a human being, it made it easier to care for her.

"Come on, beautiful," I whispered, smearing away a drop of blood on her cheek with my thumb. "Show me those pretty blue eyes again."

She stirred and her hand shot up to my wrist, tearing me off her. "Don't touch me like that, vampire. I haven't given you the right."

I laughed softly. "You gave me the right the moment you collapsed in my arms, thank you very much. Look around, sweetheart. You're torn up, covered in blood, and walking through the dull streets of Bristol. You don't really have anyone else."

She stared at my teeth, my smile, and I wondered if she was looking for my fangs, waiting for them to appear. Were they even hidden? Did my eyes flare black at the sight of her? She was lovely, I'd give her that, beneath all the blood and bird nest hair.

She blinked twice, probably the most I'd seen her blink all night, looked around, and relaxed. She knew that if I wanted to kill her or rape her, I would have done so already. We were alone in an alley by a club, where all our voices were smothered by the rhythm inside. She was easy prey.

"Sorry. I didn't realize it was you," she answered softly. I noticed the change in her tone. She was warmer now, tired as though the shock were subsiding.

"Do we know each other?" I asked.

She shook her head and rested back against the brick wall of the alley. She let go of my wrist and my hands dropped, heavy as stone, by my sides. "Only by reputation," she said, her voice slurred by exhaustion. "You killed Herrick. The vampires are abuzz."

"So I'm famous, then?" I chuckled drily but didn't correct her. It was better for us if the vampires thought I, not George, killed Herrick. "Might I ask what a girl like you is doing hanging around vampires? I don't intend to be self-deprecating but we're not exactly a cuddly sort. And why the hell, might I ask, are you covered in vampire blood?"

Tears started to form in her eyes, the memories probably replaying in her mind. I instantly regretted my questions. They weren't important. She wasn't a danger to me and she needed help. She just sniffed though and the pain seemed to recede off her face behind some imaginary wall.

"It's my brothers. He was turned four months back," she confessed.

"I'm sorry." Her eyes locked on mine but my heart didn't stutter like it did in the club. Whatever spell she had on me was done with.

"Don't be. It wasn't his fault. He tried to fight it, like you… You're fighting it right now, aren't you? You look in pain."

I gulped but continued to smile, relaxed and charming as ever. "You're the one covered in blood. Look, I don't know who's after you but I've got a place around here. You can get cleaned up. It's safe."

She looked away for a moment, pondering. Then, she nodded weakly back at me, her eyes glazing over. I bent down a bit to get a better look.

"You're going to be okay. I promise," I reassured her. It was my every intention, the bloodlust quickly dying now.

She shot me a weak smile and said, "Don't worry, Mitchell. It's not in me to distrust your kind."

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**GEORGE**

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Nina and I were serious. I guess. I mean, she didn't run away screaming or send the villagers after me with pitchforks so I'd labeled my big reveal more or less a success. It's not like I'd ever imagined telling her so I didn't really have much to compare it to.

The only problem was that if we were, you know, "okay" as she'd said, then why was she avoiding the shit out of me the last few weeks. I knew I had to give her space but how long did one need to cope with the existence of the supernatural. Television must have prepared her for this.

It was our three-month anniversary but I was sure she didn't remember. She'd never remembered that sort of thing before, at least never bothered to celebrate it with me. I'd planned on surprising her with dinner when she came over after work that night but it was near 10:00 and she still hadn't shown. I dialed her mobile and, surely enough, she was working the late shift. Again. On our bloody anniversary.

I'd sent Mitchell and Annie away so I was pretty much left to rot in my hairy boots, staring at my centerpiece for an hour or two or three. I figured she'd be home around 5:00 and decided to wait for her on the slim chance that she didn't go straight to her apartment. All her things were in my closet. I didn't honestly see what the big leap was all about but Annie and Mitchell had warned me against moving too fast after the big reveal. At this rate, we'd be having kids when we were 60.

I didn't really mind waiting up for her since I wouldn't be sleeping anyway. Who could with the state of the world? I put away all my crappy food – made with love, of course – and went to calmly read my newspaper on the kitchen table.

Annie poked her head into the kitchen around 4:00, checking up on me no doubt. What, did she think I'd brought the roof down or something? You set a dishcloth on fire _once_ and you never bloody live it down but Mitchell kills a harem of virgins in Morocco once upon a time and gets set loose on a hospital full of horny nurses like it's all good. There's just no justice in the world.

"Did you two have a fight?" asked Annie sheepishly, her mouth hidden behind plaster.

Of course she'd think that. I always read my newspaper after a fight with Nina. It was easier keeping things in perspective when you read about how crappy everyone else has got it. Tonight, it'd been lying conveniently by and it was either that or the Cheerios box which wasn't, coincidentally, very cheery either.

"No no," I told her quickly, folding up the newspaper and gesturing for her to grab a seat. "I just went totally daft all of a sudden and forgot she was working the late shift."

She smiled and came to sit beside me, grabbing an empty mug from the table in her hands. It was a habit she had, I'd noticed long ago, from her human days.

"How was the ol' grave?" I joked, taking a sip of my own tea. She mirrored me but didn't actually drink. Mitchell and I wondered if she noticed when she did it.

"It was lovely. I scratched out Owen's name with a crowbar," she answered cheerily, like such violent acts were to be applauded. In her case, I suppose it was, so I did.

It's amazing what turning down death does to one's self-esteem. It was also lovely not to hear Owen's name being gushed out every other sentence anymore, not since we found out he was a murderous psychopath. It was getting a big sick.

She suddenly turned her attention to my place settings. "George? Did you make this centerpiece?"

I went a little red around the ears. "Maybe."

She stifled giggles.

"WHAT?!" I screeched. "She just found out I was a murderous, furry beast with moodier times of the month than she'll ever have so pardon me if I pull out all the stops."

Annie hid her face in the empty mug again to hide her wide smile. I suppose it was nice to see her smile again, even if it was at my expense. "Sorry. Sorry. It's just… George, you covered plastic apples with glitter."

I opened my mouth to defend my decorative choices when the door suddenly burst open and we both stood up in a rush. It was Mitchell with a girl asleep in his arms. He went to carry her up the stairs, mumbling something like, "Hey guys. This is Lee. She needs a place to clean up. Later."

Annie and I shared a concerned look before running up after him. "What happened to her?" asked Annie, appearing by his side before I ever got to the top of the stairs. Man, was I getting out of shape? One would think running through the woods at all hours would be great exercise but all I'd managed to develop was a rather nice bum.

"She's just tired," said Mitchell. "She's been feeding her brother for a while."

I filled in the blanks as Annie went to get a bath started. "He was a vampire?"

"Yup," he replied as if nothing.

"Mitchell, where did you even find her?" asked Annie, popping back in. I heard the water run in the distance. Mitchell had the girl set down on his bed and he'd begun to gently remove her clothes. I sputtered something about giving us a warning before he undressed strange, blood-soaked girls in front of us but nobody seemed to notice me.

"Club Grimm. She just walked in. I think she's been walking all night. The blood's not fresh," said Mitchell as he handed Annie some ripped pieces of dress. She squealed when he ripped off a final piece, leaving the girl in her black strapless bra and panties. I gulped. I really hoped Nina didn't walk in just then.

I helped him carry her over to the bathroom and we sat her down on the edge of the bathtub. Annie cleared her throat and said, "Excuse me guys but I think maybe I should take over."

Mitchell and I both threw our arms in the air in surrender. Annie had a very commanding voice when she wanted, especially now that she could storm vampire strongholds and make things blow up with her mind. It was going to come in really handy next time one of the neighborhood kids decided to use our front door for target practice.

We stepped out and sort of lingered in the hallway, not sure where to go or what to do, scratching the back of our heads. Men, as a gender, were kind of useless in situations like this. Annie seemed to know exactly what to do so we let her at it. We headed down to the kitchen and sat silently around the kitchen table.

That's when the first, rather obvious, question came to mind. "Mitchell… you didn't bite her, did you?"

He didn't seem offended at the accusation. He was sort of used to us mistrusting him ever since he decided to go Dark Side last month. "No. Trust me. I'd be looking a whole lot better than I do now. You can check. She doesn't have any fresh wounds."

"No no! I trust you. I was just checking."

He believed me and went to make her something to eat. "She seems exhausted. The soles of her shoes are almost worn through," he said to no one. He was pensive, staring off at nothing. He heated her up some of the food meant for the still-elusive Nina and came back to wait with me at the dinner table.

That's when, after a quick sip from my now-cold coffee, he noticed my centerpiece. He furrowed his brow, turned to me slowly, and asked, "George, did you glitter up a plastic apple?"

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**ANNIE**

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We all saw the scars, briefly, when Mitchell tore off her clothes but nobody said anything. Nobody gasped. We were used to scars around here. It was a quick glance and the boys didn't want to focus on her too much since she was two steps away from being naked. But I did.

Knelt down beside her in the tub, I could see every mark. It was hideous, extensive. Some holes seemed to have been used repeatedly, making craters on her arms. It was restrained to her arms and lower legs and she was still too drowsy to interrogate. I had a thousand questions flying through my mind.

Did it hurt? Well, that was stupid. Of course it did. Did her brother do that or was it more than one? For how long had she been giving herself up like that?

She stirred in the tub and shot awake, splashing water about. I managed to dodge it. I held onto her shoulders, keeping her grounded. She scanned my face for some familiarity but couldn't find any.

"Hi! Hi!" I quickly shouted. "Sorry, I'm Annie! I'm Mitchell's friend. You're at our flat. You're safe."

She sighed but her chest continued to heave for a bit. She looked around at the soapy sponge in my hands and the bloody water all around her. I handed it to her and she shot me a tired but grateful smile.

"Thanks, Annie," she croaked, going to get the dried up splotches of blood on her thighs. "I've got it now."

"Do you want me to go?" I asked, going to stand.

She shook her head. "Would you mind staying for a bit? I haven't seen another human up close in days."

I chuckled nervously and began to ramble. "Uh, I'm not really human. I'm sort of… well, I'm a ghost. Sort of. I was. I kind of turned down death so I haven't a clue what I am now but I was ghost a month ago. Still dead, I guess. Oh and George, the other one you probably saw carrying you into the bathroom? He's a werewolf. I know. It's like the setup for a bad sitcom but we're all good friends and—Shit! Sorry! I'm talking too much!"

She laughed, too softly to really count. "No, it's nice. Please. Go on. I don't care what you say. It's just nice to have someone to talk to."

I paused and pondered my questions well. "How long have you been with vampires?"

"Vampire," she corrected. "One. My brother. He was sick. Herrick came to us at home, offered him immortality… he never said what would happen when he got hungry. He killed his girlfriend the first night. He came to me, begged me to keep him from hurting anyone else. I locked him up and, well, did the best I could."

"You were very brave," I whispered, watching her limp hands move the sponge slowly over her bare thighs. If it weren't for the scars, she'd be beautiful.

"He's family. You just have to do what you can, you know."

I nodded. I knew very well. Mitchell and George were family. I'd given up death to stay by their side. I didn't regret it yet but I knew a moment would come when I would, maybe years from now when George or Nina died and me and Mitchell would be left to wander my living room all alone. I'd thought about the situation when that happened. I'd pretty much agreed to be Mitchell's companion for eternity. I didn't really mind the company. I loved Mitchell, just like I loved George. What bothered me was that I was actually looking forward to eternity with him.

"Is he your only family?" I asked, just trying to break the silence and my own wandering thoughts.

"Yup. The last of us. My own bloke left me when I kept breaking all our dates to hang out with my brother in the attic so yea, Jamie was the last of us."

Her words didn't escape me. "Was?" I echoed softly.

Just then, her brave, distant face and all her concentration faded away. The pain came forward, skewing her face. She began to sob silently and turned her face from me. I ran my hand up and down her back as she hugged her knees in the water.

"I killed him," she mumbled sometime later through a curtain of tears. "I couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't see me in pain. So he asked me to do it. He asked me to kill him."

I covered my mouth with one palm and continued to soothe her with the other. I could only imagine her pain but I wasn't surprised. I'd seen worse in that funeral parlor dungeon. But it was still hard to watch someone so broken, so permanently scarred. I was at least intact.

"We keep going, Lee," I said, sure of my words. "I know what it's like. You keep going till you can't give anymore. I know. It's okay now. It's over. He's free, and so are you."

The sobbing got louder. It lasted another half hour and then I helped her out of the tub. I wrapped a towel around her and carried her out to Mitchell's room. It's not like he'd been sleeping the last month. I doubted he'd mind having a pretty girl in his bed. I hesitated at his bedroom door. He was still downstairs but I didn't like it. Something in me hated the idea of him having another girl up here. It was like I was already claiming him as my own. He was my companion, not this girl's.

I swallowed all that silliness away and helped her sit down on the bed. I covered her up in his sheets and watched her instantly doze off. I heard his footsteps up the stairs behind me. Mitchell stood in the doorway, watching us with knitted brows and crossed arms. He looked right through me to the girl in his bed and I felt invisible all over again. I knew that was impossible, that Mitchell could always see me, even the parts I hid from myself. But it still made my stomach flip nervously and my heart shriveled up at the thought of being erased again.

He walked right past me and pulled up the sheets around her. He kissed her forehead and whispered lovingly, "Sleep tight, pretty girl. You're safe."

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_I wanted to make this a one-shot but it looks like it's going to be a short novella. What do you think? Should I continue it? And before you ask, no, this is in no way a Lee/Mitchell story. It's Mitchell/Annie. So don't you fret. More jealous fun and lurid misunderstandings coming soon. _

**Reviews are better than late-night… bowling. **


	2. Part Two

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**CHAPTER TWO:  
**Phantom Pains

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_Some conversations and revelations on the path to self-discovery._

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**MITCHELL**

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I led Annie downstairs where George was curled up on the couch, waiting for Nina. He'd fallen asleep and begun to snore, mumbling something about pipe cleaners and glue. Annie and I shared a look and smirked at each other across the kitchen table.

"So you just saw her in the club?" Annie asked, breaking the silence with her sad attempt at interrogation. She and George were making me crazy with all their suspicions. Why couldn't they tell I was in pain? Why weren't they happy about it?

I just scoffed at her. "I smelled her, Annie. You happy? She was covered in vampire blood. I thought they'd found me or something. When I realized she was just a scared kid, I got her out of there and brought her here… She, uhm, tell you anything?"

Annie scrunched up her nose like she was debating whether or not to tell me. "She killed her brother," she whispered as though it were something truly shocking. I'd actually suspected it since she told me her brother had been turned. "That was all the blood. She let him feed off her for months but they couldn't do it anymore and she—"

She interrupted herself and silence smothered us again. Annie was sipping her empty mug absentmindedly, staring off at the wall. No matter how many times she staved off death or how moody she got, she was still the same innocent little girl we met all those years ago. Silly to think a ghost would change.

I reached across for her hand across the table. She flinched and my hand went right through her, slamming on the table as I tried to hold onto her. In a blink, she was gone and just as quickly, she was back in her seat.

"You okay?" I asked. She was never so twitchy about me touching her. We used to curl up on the couch all the time, watching old movies when I couldn't sleep. Lee had been the only change and I realized what she feared. I was the same as the monster that had done that to Lee. "Look, Annie, I get that you've always seen me as just another guy, your friend through anything, and I'm still him, I promise. But I'm the monster too. I'm not like George. I can't put it away for a month then have my happy jaunt through the woods and wake up refreshed. I saw her covered in blood and I felt _hungry_. I saw those scars and I wanted to feed off her. I know it's ugly but I'd rather you see the truth than the lie, even if it makes you a little jumpy around me."

She gazed at me for a moment then refused to look at me again. "I see you," she answered softly. "You think I don't. I know what you are, Mitchell, and it doesn't matter. It never has. I just—I wonder some things."

"Like?" I urged her on with a lazy smirk.

"Like whether you ever thought about… you know, _not_ killing the girls you sleep with. I mean, Lee's brother fed off her for months and _she_ was okay. Why don't you get a human girlfriend? They're not as exciting but hey, you might actually be happy for once."

I laughed, so loudly that George shot up all of a sudden, screaming something about too much glitter on the pears. Annie wasn't amused at all.

"No," I answered, the laughter dying. "Annie, what am I supposed to tell the poor girl? 'Hey baby, how about I suck your blood? Don't worry, it'll only hurt for eternity.' I'd have to reveal what I am! It's not the blood they'd be missing. It's the safety of not knowing we're out there!"

She shushed me, nodding towards the stairs. "Don't wake her. I didn't mean to rile you up. It was just a question."

I shut my eyes and sighed. "Sorry. No, you're right. It was just a question."

A stupid question. It wasn't an option. I'd accepted it years ago. These were different times and I didn't believe I could fall in love again. Even if I did, it'd be temporary and I was too hungry right now. I wouldn't be able to control myself.

I looked at George on the couch, snuggled up with his plastic fruit. He'd found Nina. He'd found someone who loved him for the beast he was. Maybe it _was_ a possibility. I was much harder to love but maybe there was a chance after all. Annie saw my line of sight and she seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Something caught fire inside me, maybe the remnants of my dusty heart. For a moment, just a moment, I saw Annie as the girl and not the ghost. Not just any girl either. She was beautiful and she was here and she was… glowing before me like I'd never seen. Did ghosts even have blood? She could touch things and feel more and more. She was cold, I knew from our makeshift kiss, but her hand kept getting warmer the longer I held it. Maybe giving up death made her corporeal again.

I chuckled to myself, after some time of silence, for even pondering such foolish things. George was woken by his cell phone. Nina had apparently gone home alone and he ran to meet her at her place. The boy was turning into a desperate puppy but I didn't say a thing. I quickly went back to my quiet contemplation beside Annie. We moved to the couch and cuddled up as we usually did. George was the only one that could ever really get a good night's sleep around here. I was right. She was warmer than before. I could hear something pulsing beneath the surface of her skin.

I gulped because I'd never really seen her like this. I had always known she was beautiful and a wonderful, caring girl but never had I thought of her as a possibility. Now, any little touch meant something to me. I was hungry in more ways than one and I was painfully aware of it. I wanted to feel normal. I got up around 9:00 and went to make myself some more tea, just a pretense to get away from her for a second. When I came back, I sat on the other side of the sofa and put my feet up on the footrest. She decided to scoot over and rest her head on my lap. Great. Like I wasn't getting all sorts of dirty imagery already.

Around 10:00, Lee woke up and started down the stairs. She looked definitely different too. For one, she was smiling and her eyes just seemed to light up.

"Hey," she greeted with a timid wave of her hand. She was wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of my plaid boxers. She caught me looking her up and down and blushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't have anything to wear. Uh, have you noticed that your room is shaped like a coffin?"

I laughed and nodded, going to stand up and give her a hand down the stairs. It was pure instinct since I'd basically had to carry her all night. I wasn't used to seeing her stand on her own. "Yea… it was just a strange coincidence. You feelin' better?"

Annie stood up behind me and, in a blink, she was in the kitchen. "You like omelets?" she shouted at us. "You must be starving!"

"I guess, yea," said Lee. "You're all very kind. Thank you for this."

I laughed and pulled out the chair for her at the kitchen table. "Well, you know about our kind. That makes you rare and, to us, family."

Annie muttered something to herself in the distance. She pulled some omelets out of nowhere for me and Lee and we all ate in silence.

"I promise I'll be out of your hair before night. I've got a place on the other side of town. Haven't used it in a while. I guess it's been waiting for me," said Lee through a mouthful of eggs. She really _was_ starving, the poor girl.

"It's no problem," I offered. "Stay as long as you need."

She shook her head adamantly. "No chance, Mitchell. I know your reputation with girls. I already woke up naked in your bed once, thank you very much. And you didn't even buy me dinner!"

We all laughed humorlessly. I lent her my most androgynous pair of jeans and button-down shirt and walked her home. She was pleasant company after all. She was an artist and lived in a studio big enough for her to be a _good_ artist. Her paintings and sketches were hung up all over the walls and there was a staircase that led to a loft with a queen-sized bed, looking lonely and still unmade. She hadn't seen it in months. I could tell by the way she lit up and collapsed face-first atop it as soon as we came in.

She made me some tea and we talked some more. I told her about the war and the "fun" years with Herrick. She told me about growing up in London with hippie parents and we laughed about the Beatles, agreeing that Ringo was greatly underrated. I was about to leave when she remembered she was still wearing my clothes and asked me to wait a minute so she could change.

"No!" I told her, gesturing her to stop. "It'll give you reason to stop by again."

She smiled at me like she was looking for something in my eyes and reached to open the door. "Thanks for saving my life, Mitchell the Vampire."

I chuckled and slipped on my sunglasses. "Thanks for the company, Lee the Artist."

I was extremely happy to have a human friend I didn't have to hide from, perhaps too ecstatic. And so, we parted as quickly as we met.

-----

**GEORGE**

-----

Nina was asleep in bed when I got to her place. I had a key so I let myself in. She was probably exhausted and had just dropped into bed in her scrubs, her shoes still on and everything. She was the cutest workaholic I'd ever seen, even with her mouth half open as she drooled onto her pillow.

She wasn't the kind of girl I imagined myself falling for but the kind of girl I once wanted would never accept a werewolf so easily. At first, she'd been riddled with questions, mostly about the transformation. I answered them quickly, unabashed. I figured she'd seen the worst and stayed so the details were a lot less gory by comparison. Good thing she never asked about that first night we made love. I _had_ been a bit feral. I think she just put two and two together.

I looked at her limp body and all I could think of was the smoothness of her skin, the salty taste of her after the first hour of love-making. I thought of her tiny moans when I kissed her and the way she called out my name in bed and I couldn't help myself. I crawled in beside her. She stirred but didn't wake.

I loved the way she smelled, even after a day at the hospital, so I breathed in deep. Her particular scent was always there, loyal and true, no matter how long we'd been apart. I nuzzled closer and buried my face in her neck, looking for warmth. I could have stayed like that forever.

The alarm rang some time later, probably near dusk. I reached up to silence it. She didn't have to work today, I knew for sure, so she couldn't avoid me. She curled up into me at first but, upon realizing who I was and where we were, jumped up off the bed. "George!" she screeched. "What are you doing here?"

That was the last straw. What was I doing there? Seriously? What was _I_ doing there?

"I'm your bloody boyfriend! I spent the day with you here, that's what I did. I kept you company and you didn't even notice. Now you ask me that like I'm some sort of invader, like I'm Napoleon incarnate and—"

"You scared me, George!" she shouted back, stopping my rant in its tracks. "Stop it!"

I whimpered uselessly and stood up off the bed. I went to retreat back towards the main door when I felt her grab my wrist. I froze. This was the most she'd voluntarily touched me in weeks. I knew what this was about, I thought.

"I would never hurt you," I said with a soft, incredulous chuckle. I couldn't believe she'd even consider it. "That beast is not me, Nina! I thought you understood that."

Her bottom lip started to quiver and tears starting flowing all over the place. Was this woman insane? Suddenly, she took a step forward and lifted up her sleeve. I realized then this was the first time I'd seen any part of her in weeks, any real emotion. I left the safety of her eyes and wandered down to the scars on her forearm, long and menacing as the ones on my own shoulder. I touched mine by instinct. They started to ache, a phantom pain.

"When did I…" I stuttered so softly that I didn't think she'd heard.

"That day. Herrick. You pushed me against a wall," she answered, the tears rolling down her chin.

"Nina, I—" I began but she looked away, covering her arms again so quickly that you'd think she were smothering flames.

She shook her head and went to the front door. "Go away, George," she said, her eyes to the floor. "Please. I can't stand to look at you right now."

My heart shriveled up as painfully as any full moon and I bit my tongue to keep from screaming. I could taste blood. She had given me one choice. Do as she said.

So I left.

-----

**ANNIE**

-----

I watched them go, laughing as they went, and realized I was left alone again. I hated being alone in the house these days. I kept thinking that the door would show up again and I'd have to take it without a goodbye. I don't know if I'd be strong enough to resist it a second time without Mitchell and George there. There'd be no reason to stay without them.

They didn't get back till noon. In the meantime, I cleaned the house and the mess we'd made when Lee showed up. I also discovered George's secret glitter stash and accidentally misplaced it down the toilet. He'd thank me later when he could still claim his manhood.

I looked around at the bad wallpaper from twenty years ago. I found the house to be suffocating without my boys. I knew George would be spending the day with Nina to make up for last night and Mitchell would probably spend it working at the hospital, if not at Lee's. I wouldn't put it past him if he decided to stay for a quickie. Okay, so maybe I'd never seen him have a quickie but one cannot deny that his last sexual encounters have all ended kind of pathetically disastrous. They are, by his nature, very quick.

When he got home that night, I met him at the door so I could glare at the dark circles under his eyes, looking for any change. There was none. I sighed with relief but he just rolled his eyes. I might have been a bit obvious with my intentions.

"Annie, would you like me to pee in a cup for you something?" he joked, kissing my cheek hello. He was in a jolly mood, which was strange considering he was still obviously suffering. George hadn't noticed his shaking hands but I did. What else could I do but observe the world around me? They were shaking as bad as ever.

I smiled at him sadly and raised a hand up to caress the spot he'd kissed. I loved it when he touched me. When George did, when Tully had, it was just a distant echo like I knew it was supposed to hurt. A phantom pain, I suppose. When Mitchell kissed me, it's like I recognized the death in him. We were on the same plane of existence, one might say. And his plane felt warm on mine, like the faraway glow of a fireplace.

I knew he was cold to anyone else but he would always be warm to me. I tried to imagine how cold I must feel to _him_. Surely, he was used to kissing corpses by now. After all, he couldn't kill them if they were already dead.

I let the kiss and the moment pass as another tiny, meaningless sign of his brotherly affection. Because, of course, this was all it was.

He made himself a sandwich and practically skipped up the stairs. I pondered giving him some space but I was curious and I was not one to deny my own curiosity. What else did I have for entertainment? Television? Mitchell's life was so much more interesting than those cheepo fang boys with the black eyeliner.

I was about to follow him, to barrage him with questions I always did, when George came storming past me to his room. He looked… broken? He moved too quickly for me to tell.

I looked up at the stairs. Mitchell had poked his head out into the hall, his sandwich caught between his bared teeth. We looked at each other. I shrugged, helpless. He crossed the hall and knocked on George's door.

He swallowed his bite of sandwich and called out, "George, you okay in there, mate?"

I watched from the stairs, terrified. Images of George changing in our living room all those months ago rushed back into my memory. The pain, the screams. Even if George wasn't crying out now, if he was silent as the grave, we all heard the cries for help.

Mitchell said he couldn't sleep without seeing that George was okay so we camped out against his door, huddled close, waiting for him to come out. He wouldn't, of course, but it didn't matter after a while. It was quickly becoming a habit. He and I. Looking for an ever-increasing warmth the other didn't know existed.

We didn't talk but he held my hand as usual. It'd never been like this and we both knew it. We were just waiting to see how far we could last like that, immobile, before it all fell apart again. He eventually fell asleep with his head on my shoulder. I tensed as his shoulders relaxed and he drifted gently off to sleep.

"You're warmer," he mumbled into my sweater and I wrapped my arms around him. If I indeed was warmer, the least I could do was act as his blanket when the night got cold.

"You should go to bed," I answered. "Go ahead. I'll keep watch in case he comes out."

He shook his head and his hand slid across my stomach. I flinched and the tiniest whimper escaped me. "No, I don't want to be alone."

"You're not alone," I answered, rolling my eyes. Men were such babies. It's not like I could go anywhere. I'd be lingering just outside his door, haunting him from a distance. "You've never been alone a day in your life, Mitchell."

"And you have?" he replied just as sleepily, barely comprehensible.

I smirked at my beautiful walls, once my only company. "Before you two… I thought I'd spend the rest of my existence completely alone. No one could hear me scream or cry or laugh. So, I know you're feeling bad right now. I know you're counting the seconds till you can allow yourself to kill again, but I want you to know that it'll be okay. No matter what, I'm always going to be here when you need help or company. I'm good company, I promise. You never even have to talk."

He didn't move again and I thought I'd maybe gone too far. Had I offered something that was not mine to give? He didn't breathe but I knew that didn't mean anything. I wished I could see his eyes.

A few minutes passed and he hugged me tighter by the waist. I took it as a sign to continue. "Mitchell?" I whispered.

"I thought you said I didn't have to talk," he said, his voice light and louder. He was awake now, fully.

"Did I wake you?"

He shook his head again. He didn't seem in the mood to talk at all. So, because social cues were kind of nonexistent to ghosts, I went on. I rambled on about every worry I had and every hope and I realized that they were the exact same thing.

"…And I just can't help but wonder about eternity. I mean, I know you're used to it. I know you've survived a hundred years and my eternity is considerably less but it's still wrong to me. Every night when I go to my chair and stare off at something till morning, I'm just waiting for you both to wake up so I can get a chance at talking with people again. I miss it so much. I don't care if you just complain about missing mugs or Nina's constant bitching or the arseholes at the hospital. It's just nice to hear voices again," I said. I stopped when he gave my stomach a tiny squeeze to let me know he was listening. I bent down to see his eyes were closed.

He must have felt me move and added, cheerfully, "You can always visit Lee now, you know. She invited us over. She's got a nice big art studio just fifteen minutes away. I'm sure she'd love the company herself."

I pursed my lips and furrowed my brow. I didn't want freakin' Lee. I wanted _him_. But, of course, he wouldn't get that part. So I tried to elaborate, completely ignoring the subject of his new plaything.

"Hey, Mitchell? If George and Nina get serious one day and he decides to move away, would you leave too?" I timidly asked. It was another one of those floating concerns.

I didn't expect him to lift his head up like that, startling me. "Annie, I'd _never_ leave you!" he shouted. "George and Nina wouldn't either. Even if they move away, I'm sure they'd stay nearby."

I must have started to cry because he took my face in his hands and wiped at my cheeks with his thumbs. I didn't really want to look him in the eyes. I thought if I did, he'd be able to read my soul and know what I was thinking, what even I didn't know I wanted. I looked at his lips for a split second and instantly felt guilty.

"What about a hundred more years from now?" I whispered, fumbling with my hands on my lap. I looked down and away. "What happens to us after they die and you and I are alone?"

He smiled sadly. "I'd still be there, Annie. I'm kind of forever."

I gulped. "Right. Until you get yourself killed, you mean. You annoy the wrong vampire, the wrong paranoid neighbor, and I'm alone again."

He looked at me like I was being ridiculous, smiling bright as always. That smile could be painful at times. "What would you like me to do, Annie? I promise I'll try not to pull any more stupid moves but if I don't feed soon, I'm going to die. It's a big probability."

"But you can try. For as long as you can."

He shook his head. "Annie, the longer I let the hunger fester, the harder it's going to be to stop when the time finally comes."

I'm not sure how I arrived at this. I'd thought about it once or twice just as a curious something or other to pass the long nights. It was an impossible probability. But I asked it nonetheless.

"Damn it, Mitchell!" I exclaimed, jumping to my feet. "Couldn't you just drink from _me_?"

-----

_Remember the title, dears. _

**Reviews are better than slightly inappropriate touching between friends. **


	3. Part Three

**-----**

**CHAPTER THREE:  
**Sanctuaries

_-----_

**MITCHELL**

-----

"Damn it, Mitchell!" she screeched, leaving our little cocoon of warmth to tower over me with her fists on her hips. "Couldn't you just drink from _me_?"

My eyes grew wide as saucers. She was obviously serious but so nonchalant about the proposition as though she'd just asked me if I wanted tea. My words caught in my throat. I wanted to say yes. I looked at the way her beautiful skin glowed in the dim, distant light from my bedroom. I'd left it on.

"Annie, you don't know what you're saying. You've never seen me feed. You don't know what—" I began but she just rolled her eyes at me. It was like trying to explain death to a child.

"I can't die again, can I?"

I scoffed. I knew there were many ways to let her down gently. I could tell her I didn't feel about her that way and that to drink from her would be too personal but that would be a lie. I did feel _something_. I would of course never quantify such a feeling because it meant the end of the happy little household we'd built. It meant I'd love her, use her up, and discard her the way I did every other girl I ever loved. It didn't matter that she could never die. Even if it was a possibility, it would mean the end of everything.

I could have lied. So easily. I could have made up all sorts of reasons on the spot. But this was Annie.

"I'm sorry," I said, softly as possible. She was a delicate thing and she would never understand my true reasons. "I couldn't do that to you."

She clenched her jaw and took two steps forward so I was face-to-knee. I slid up the floor and found myself with my back pressed to the door. It was colder here as though she radiated ice. Her dark eyes, the expression of outrage and pain, would be forever scarred into the back of my mind. This moment was ours.

I could have kissed her then and maybe she'd understand but I didn't do that either, no matter how much I wanted to. "I can't be here," I continued stiffly as her jaw began to tremble. "Call if George comes out."

She took a step back and, in a blink, she was gone. I heard talking inside George's room and I realized where she'd gone. The voices were calm, controlled, so I didn't hesitate to leave. They were safer here without me. I stepped outside and hugged myself for warmth. It was a cold morning in December and I'd been spoiled by Annie's warm embrace.

I looked at the path on my right and my left, seemingly endless. Without my vampire family, without my friends, I was just a wandering soul. Just like Annie. I shook my head, trying to erase the way her eyes lit up. It wasn't just tonight. It was a thousand days together, a thousand images of her smile, her lips, that obnoxious laugh and the way her hair bounced when she was excited. Which was often. Over any little thing.

I thought of Lee and decided maybe I still had a sanctuary left. I didn't know if she'd be home but what did I have to lose? I wandered towards her side of town, to the warehouses and studios. The lights were on at her place. All of them, like some brilliant beacon calling to me.

I stood at her door for a few minutes, hugging my shirt around me. I hadn't even bothered with a coat. I gave a single reluctant knock and she opened immediately, a whisk in hand. Her eyes were large, alarmed at the sight of me. I looked deathlier than ever. I didn't want to scare her. I just wanted company.

She didn't need to be told. She could see it on my face. "Well, hello there," she greeted in a sweet voice. "You a'ight, soldier?"

I tried to smile but it couldn't have come out very well. "I'm sorry to bother," I began but she shook her head, shushing me, and stepped aside to clear the path inside.

"Come in! Come in!" she shouted, slamming the door behind her. She led me to her paint-smeared kitchen table and pushed me down into the chair. She turned off whatever she had cooking, which smelled strongly of egg, and sat across from me. "What's happened?"

I gulped. "I don't think I could. It's kind of private."

She pursed her lips. "Well who the bloody hell am _I_ going to tell? Spill it, vampire, or I'm going after my kitchen knives. I used to date a chef. I know how to wield a blade, mister."

"Oh God, sometimes I wish you _would_ just cut me into pieces, set me on fire, and spare them my baggage," I told her, setting my forehead down into a puddle of blue paint on the wooden table. She chuckled and I raised my head to glare at her. "I'm serious, Lee. My best friend just asked me to _bite_ her!"

She stopped laughing immediately. "Annie? The ghost?"

I nodded, wiping the paint on my sleeve. I was trembling, I saw. I wondered what else my body was doing without my consent, whether it was obvious to her.

"You love her," she said. It wasn't a question. "You don't want to hurt her."

"She's a ghost. She's not going to die if we—" This time, I stopped myself. She raised her eyebrows at me, slightly outraged. I quickly understood why.

She sighed and said, "Are you really going to try to convince me that feeding off her is okay? You're talking to the expert here, Mitchell. I'm just sorry that my presence gave her the idea. I get why you wouldn't want to hurt her."

I shook my head. "I'd thought about it before. I'm sure she must have too."

She was fiddling with her hands, unsure of how to go on, smiling awkwardly at me. I looked at her expectantly, urging her to just spit out whatever criticisms she had. I could take it.

"I don't see the problem here, Mitchell!" she finally spat, throwing her arms in the air.

"I could hurt her!" I shouted back.

"You can't kill her."

"You and I both know how much it hurts to bite. I can't stop now, Lee. She was already hurt once by the man she loved. I can't let it happen again," I said adamantly, returning my forehead to the puddle, defeated.

She made a tsking sound and leaned back, one arm over the back of the chair. "You can always… stop. Have you ever thought about, you know, physically restraining yourself?"

I shot up again and started to laugh, which turned into a cough because she was absolutely serious and I didn't want to offend. "Bondage?"

"Not the S&M type!" she quickly corrected, laughing humorlessly. She did that often but I imagine she wouldn't find much funny nowadays. "Not that that's such a bad thing either. I mean, she can always tie you up to the bed or something and cut herself. It's not much lovelier but the pain would be considerably less for her than if you bite her. _Considerably _less. And you never have to worry about frightening her or hurting her unintentionally."

"I dunno," I mumbled into my fist.

She shrugged. "Fine but honestly, if she already knows what you are and is willing to do it for you… consider yourself fucking lucky, mate. It doesn't happen very often."

She was right, I knew. I agreed, reluctantly, to consider the possibility, which she found ridiculous.

"You wanna borrow my chains?" she asked casually.

I sputtered unintelligibly for a minute before finally answering, "Well… since you offered."

She laughed and went upstairs to fetch them. I realized then that she was in a white teddy and nothing else. I could see the marks on her legs, at the way she wore them with pride. I wondered if she tied up her brother too. Some marks were slashes, not bites. I furrowed my brow and started to walk around as she rummaged upstairs in her loft, muttering about a chap named Tony she'd met in Greece who liked nude beaches and metal cuffs.

"They aren't comfortable for you but who bloody cares. You'll live," she laughed upstairs. "Oh! And let me get your clothes too! I just popped them in the wash this afternoon."

I didn't reply, captivated by a sketch of me she had lying around her kitchen. I'd interrupted what appeared to be either a late-night snack or an early breakfast but she just lit up when I was around so I didn't think to apologize again. She wanted company too.

She came down the stairs with a pair of medieval-looking shackles atop a folded pile of clothes in her arms. I must have looked startled because she set them on one arm and came to rake her hand through my hair with the other as though she'd known me forever.

"You know what? Why don't you spend the night? She shouldn't see you like this."

I gulped. "That bad?"

She laughed. "I've seen car accident victims look cheerier. She probably needs some time to think it over herself. I'll go set up the couch, aye?"

I nodded and she got up on the tips of her toes to better kiss my cheek. I gave her a hug and helped her make the couch. I barely slept but my heart felt calmer. In her studio, surrounded by so many drawings of faraway places, planets, and people… I felt outside my own body, even if just for a few moments. It gave me peace.

-----

**GEORGE**

-----

The house had been dead silent, except for Annie and Mitchell's conversation outside. When they were done, I felt almost… intrusive. When Annie offered herself, I just shot up out of bed and stared at my door like a useless imbecile. I wanted to run out there and shake Annie till the ideas stopped popping into her head but I just couldn't move. Was she fucking serious?

I heard Mitchell's footsteps outside and Annie was now in my bedroom. She raised a finger to her lips, gesturing for me to be silent.

"Annie, no…" I whispered, too low for Mitchell's ears. Then I saw her face, the streaming tears and trembling hands. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head dismissively and calmly answered, "I'll be fine. He can't kill me, even if he does hurt my feelings. How are _you_? What happened with Nina?"

"You want to talk about Nina? He just—Oh forget it. Trying to get you two to talk honestly about this is like telling an astronaut the world is flat," I mumbled, scooting over. She shivered and got in under the covers. She was freezing. "My god, Annie, since when do you feel the cold?"

She shrugged it off and cuddled close. "Ugh. You're just as freezing as me! How is the bloodsucking corpse the only warm one in this whole house?"

I chuckled sadly. "I'm not even going to quantify that with a response. Are you seriously going to let him bite you?"

She raised an eyebrow at me, her arms folded on her chest. We rested against the headboard, side by side. I mirrored her pose so we could better talk as equals. She knew I was avoiding the Nina subject. I knew she knew I was avoiding the Nina subject, but she let me continue with my questions.

"He's just being stubborn. He wouldn't hurt me."

I scoffed. "For one, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Remember when you saw me change in the living room? That wild beast you saw? Mitchell's the mini-me version of that when he's hungry."

She smiled and looked off distantly. "I know he can control himself, George. Especially around me. He's a teddy bear."

"No… _I'm_ a teddy bear. He's the chupacabra. But you're right. If the hunger gets bad or heaven forbid another stabbing occurs, and I know it will, you're going to have to grow a set and take it," I said, which instantly sounded wrong. I took a moment to gather my thoughts before continuing. "Annie, you've got to understand that biting for him is almost a mating ritual. It's something personal and primal. He can't separate the two desires. Look at him and Lauren. When you told him to bite you, you might as well have invited him to shag in the linen closet."

She snapped to face me and I felt her shift and tense beside me. She gave this tiny whimper and I understood. Her innocent tears went away instantly, replaced by the tiniest flicker of a smile.

"Annie… _would_ you like to shag Mitchell in the linen closet?" I bluntly asked.

If she were alive, I imagine she'd gone pale, but all I saw was a faint blush reach her cheeks. Maybe she did have blood after all. She certainly had tears, we knew. And she didn't have to respond. I knew her answer.

"Oh geez, you do! You want to shag Mitchell in the linen closet!"

She slapped my arm, gesturing me to shut up in no uncertain terms. "George, it's not like that. It's just that… you're the most human of us all. You're alive. You can get married, have kids. Mitchell and I are dead, more or less. We're forever. When you start a family, when you die years from now, it's just going to be me and Mitchell and this old house. I'm pretty sure he's going to be the only thing keeping me to this world. Do you get me?"

"Well yea, I suppose. I just don't get why you two don't want to admit you care about each other." This was true. I wasn't an idiot. It took me a bit to notice and it was just a notion but I knew Mitchell had grown attached to her. Annie naturally loved everyone but he was careful with his heart, guarded it with steel bars. "He wants what's best for you and he doesn't think that's him. So, while I agree, I also believe he loves you enough to do anything to stay with you. If the hunger gets bad enough and he stays loyal this time, I think he'd eventually agree to give it a shot."

She grunted and furrowed her brow, staring off at her feet. "You'd think I were donating a kidney or something. That stupid git… Are you done avoiding the subject now?"

"What subject?" I had temporarily forgotten about Nina and I silently thanked Annie with a smile. "No, I don't want to talk about Nina. It's hers to tell, if she wants to. I don't know. I need to talk to her again."

"Did you two break up?" she asked sheepishly.

I put my arm around her as she rested her head on my shoulder. "I don't think so, love. It was just a fight. Don't worry. Mummy and Daddy aren't getting a divorce quite yet."

I hoped. I prayed. Nina was probably as terrified as me but she had always been stronger. She already came scarred. She _hid _the scars but didn't deny them the way I did. Something made me feel like it was going to be okay, as long as my friends didn't eat each other first. Nothing had changed for me. The ball was in Nina's court.

-----

**ANNIE**

-----

Mitchell arrived home late in the afternoon. He walked in wearing the same clothes as last night and no coat. George and I hadn't realized he'd left until we went looking for a snack that morning. George was ravenous so he made himself some fancy-sounding pasta while I made us some tea.

He had to head to work but it was Mitchell's day off so who knew when he'd come back. I was surprised to find him smiling brilliantly. He gave me another kiss on the cheek and walked right past me like last night's proposal had never happened, too insignificant to remember. He had a bag in hand with paint splotches on one side and pieces of parchment sticking out, and I noticed the same Prussian blue had dried into the roots of his hair.

I wanted to ask him about it but all I got out was, "How's Lee?"

Passive enough, no? I knew biting his head off over a relationship we didn't even have would probably not be very smart. But, as we've greatly established so far, I was not very smart. It's my excuse and I'm sticking with it.

He caught the slight acidity in my voice and his brilliant smile started to fade. I have to say I missed it the instant it died away. "She's fine," he said, his voice light as we lingered before the stairs. "She drew me. Apparently, she liked my bone structure. Something about my old soul coming through. She let me keep the rejects so I'm thinking I'll have them framed. In another hundred years, I bet they'll be worth thousands."

He laughed and hurried upstairs. I fought between joy at seeing him so happy and jealous at seeing him so happy over another girl, especially one he'd just met. She was kind enough but come on! He didn't look well though, which also tore at my heart.

I just stood there, awkwardly waiting for him to resurface. When he didn't, I swallowed my pride and went to linger in the hallway outside our rooms. I heard the shower in the distance. He'd left the door to his room ajar. I just peaked in, trying to get a whiff of him, and saw the bag he'd brought waiting for me by the foot of his bed. I pulled one of the rolls of paper out and opened it.

He was right. It was absolutely beautiful, a detailed portrait of Mitchell. Asleep.

The jealousy roared inside me again and a small snow globe he had in the corner of his room flew by my head, slamming into the wall. It was a sturdy plastic so it didn't break but the wall had a small dent in it now. I put the snow globe back, frantically, afraid of being caught. I rolled the portrait back up, slid it into the bag, and hurried back downstairs.

When he came back out for dinner, I was sitting in the living room, staring off at a turned-off television with a coffee mug in my hands. He froze and decided to sit on the seat farthest from me where he could still watch me. I handed the coffee mug out to him.

"Go on," I said in a distance voice. "I just made it."

"Oh brilliant!" He smiled and shot me his gentlest look of gratitude. "How's George?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

I continued to stare at the blank TV screen. The remote was sitting on the big couch next to me but I didn't touch it. "George is fine. He's at work, probably trying to avoid Nina. He made two centerpieces and a paper mache bowler hat before he left. Don't worry. I conveniently misplaced his glitter."

"He's gone mental."

I shrugged and brought my legs up to better rest my chin atop my knees. "They had a fight. He's trying to deal with it. Let him."

Everything went silent again and I didn't even notice or care. I just liked having him in the room, a sign that life still existed after death. He used to get that. He'd linger by me like I wasn't even there yet smiled at me the moment I moved as though proud I had. It was very easy for people such as me to stay frozen like this, lost in thought.

"Are you even going to acknowledge what happened last night?" he mumbled into the coffee pot. His voice was low, docile. He didn't want a fight either. He just wanted to deal with it.

"No," I answered. "You were clear."

"Are you angry with me?"

He sounded like a child who'd just broken his mother's vase, not his best friend's heart. I shook my head, because I honestly wasn't angry.

"Are we going to be okay?"

I waited a moment before nodding because, of course, things were different now. But yes. We would always be.

Come night, he got up off his silent throne and kissed me on the forehead. He went to the kitchen to leave his mug, upstairs to grab his keys and his new splattered bag, now empty, before hurrying out the front door without a word.

I'd learn later that he had gone to the local art store to get Lee some charcoal because she had apparently used it all on his sleeping portraits. He got George some modeling clay to occupy his mind and slightly less feminine blue and green confetti and I helped clear a craft area in a corner of the living room.

The suggestions had been refused and set aside in our memories. We were returning to normal, diving into our little protective bubble. As long as we didn't talk about Mitchell's growing hunger issues, George and Nina's avoidance issues, and my growing affection issues… we'd be fine.

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**Reviews are better than linen closets. **


	4. Part Four

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**CHAPTER FOUR:  
**How to Shed Your Skin

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_Forgive the delay! I got stuck. Next one should be up soon and it should be the end, if I don't get sidetracked. _

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**ANNIE**

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I lingered on the stairs, listening to them in the kitchen from time to time. George and Mitchell. Mitchell and Lee. George and Lee while Mitchell dressed. George and Nina. They were the most confusing of all. They whispered as though they knew I was there, as though they cared what I overheard. It was just silly mumblings from my end.

"…need somewhere safe… Stay with _me_! I'll keep you—It's dangerous in the woods… You don't know how to handle it yet!" they cried.

I just figured Nina was worried about where George was changing every month. I didn't get why. He liked the little room under the hospital just fine. Of course, I got out of there as soon as they started shouting and hissing. They did that often now. And, afterwards, George would retreat to his little craft corner in the living room and glue paper on… well, paper. Lee got him into origami but he'd just end up cutting and gluing the pieces together instead of folding. I wish I could help but I was good at neither.

I wasn't good to anybody. I was just there for haunting. And even that, I was pathetic at. So I hid up in my room, curled up in my big sofa. When it got to be stuffy and my thoughts turned murderous, I wandered the house, humming to myself Beatles songs because that was all Mitchell played these days. Loudly. He thought the music could hide his groans. Maybe from George but not from me. They echoed in the walls and the walls were mine, extensions of my self.

Nobody bothered checking in on me to see how I was doing. I was a ghost. It's not like I'd die. As soon as they stabilized their own chaotic lives, I knew they'd check in. They must have figured I wanted to be left alone which, to some degree, was true.

When Mitchell couldn't sleep, he grunted to me he was going out which, I knew, meant he was going to Lee's. Sometimes he brought her over to the house but mostly, they just sat and talked in the kitchen. He never once took her to his room, which I found strange. Maybe he knew what I felt for him. Maybe he was just being considerate to his flat mates. George certainly wasn't shy about bringing Nina over once upon a time and he was the most considerate of us all. Doors locked, after all.

That's when I began to consider that Lee wasn't his girlfriend. I mean, their talks were usually pretty casual, in no way flirtatious. They laughed a lot, I gave them that, but there was always this invisible barrier between them. They barely touched, not in any way that screamed LOVERS to me. And Mitchell was nothing if not affectionate so for them not to touch was odd to say the least.

My mind was filled with all sorts of hopes and doubts. He was making himself some coffee in the kitchen when I cautiously walked in. It was the most I'd attempted to talk to him in weeks. He stood before the sink, looking sluggish as he stirred and stared off at nothing.

I called his name softly and he jerked, spilling his coffee into the sink. He cursed and turned away from me. I realized quickly that it was to hide his blackened eyes. "What were you thinking about?" I asked though I knew it was obvious. Blood, blood, and more blood.

"Just remembering old times," he answered sadly, still unable to look me in the eyes.

I put my hand on his arm and turned him towards me. His eyes were normal but his sadness was written all over his face. I gasped and whispered, "God, Mitchell… why are you doing this?"

He scoffed and straightened up. "Don't ask questions to which you already know the answer, Annie."

But that was ridiculous! I didn't know any answer. I barely knew the question!

I smacked him in the arm and stormed towards the stairs but he caught my arm. He pushed me up against the wall and pressed his body against mine. He was on fire and, I imagined, so was I. I could always feel him. Only him.

"Is this what you want, Annie?" he hissed into my ear. "To be just like all those other girls? To be used and reused like an old rag?"

"Why don't you use Lee then?" I shouted back and he took a step away from me, his hands still on my shoulders. He lowered his head and left out a deep breath.

"Is that what this is about? Lee is just a friend. She keeps me steady."

"And what am I? A painting on the wall? I could help you, dammit!"

He laughed dryly and leaned back in, his lips hovering over mine as though he were about to kiss me. I felt drawn to him but knew he would pull back before he ever did anything. I waited for a minute or two but he just lingered there. His nose pressed against my cheek and I shivered. One must applaud a man who could make a ghost shiver. I let out a whimper and only then did we part.

I realized my hands were clawing into the wall, keeping myself steady so I didn't blink away. "I'm sorry, Annie," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

He went to retreat to his room, his eyes to the ground, when I took hold of his arm and pulled him to me. I buried my face in his neck and wrapped my arms around him, so tightly it hurt. George walked in and shot us a look.

"I can't leave you two alone for a second, can I?" he joked, cheerier than usual given it was a full moon. I didn't find it funny at all. Mitchell refused to touch me after that point.

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**GEORGE**

-----

I hadn't talked to Nina in days. She had no choice but to face me tonight. The full moon was upon us and she'd be changing. I remembered my first time, how horrible it was to be drawn to the darkness as my insides tore themselves apart. She'd only left me notes, letting me know that she could feel her senses were awakening.

Now, it was just me and her in the little room under the hospital. I wondered what would happen if two werewolves were locked in together. Would we kill each other or see the other as a mate?

I hadn't asked Mitchell. I hadn't even told him about Nina. She didn't want them to know and I respected her wishes, no matter how much I trusted Mitchell and Annie. She hadn't told anyone at the hospital about me. It was the least I could do. If it were up to me, I'd set up a harem in the basement just for her and feed her grapes. I'd do anything for her, but all she asked was company. Nina was a realist. She understood she had no choice. She was the strong one.

And she was crying.

"I can feel it coming," she whispered, the tears streaming down her face. She just stared at me as they flowed.

We were both fully clothed, facing each other like two cowboys at a showdown. The first crunch of our spine started and we both shouted. Her scream broke my heart and I ran to her side, to hold her steady, but I was in no shape to even try. She pushed me away and I understood. She wanted to do it herself. She'd always been alone. Why should now be any different?

"Don't fight it," I told her lovingly, going back to my spot on the other side of the room.

She didn't say anything, just continued to stare through me at the wall, the tears continuing to flow freely. I sighed, knowing there wasn't a word that could penetrate her tough exterior, and began to strip. I pulled my shirt up over my head and began to undo my pants as if nothing.

"What are you—" she began but stopped herself. She realized that, to change more effectively, we'd have to shed _all_ our skins.

She mirrored my resigned sigh and began to unbutton her blouse. She threw everything into the same corner as me. First her bra, then her skirt and her underwear, and then we were naked. I looked her over, at the scars I had left, and the promises I'd make. I'd once told her nobody would ever hurt her. In a few seconds, she'd scream again and I'd be responsible and I knew my heart would break again, stopping twofold.

"Nina…" I began, interrupted by our screams. We seemed in sync. She stumbled forward, towards me. My arms wrapped around her to keep her upright. Her whole weight collapsed onto me but my muscles were so tense that I didn't even feel it. I held her to my chest and tried to stroke her hair as long as I could.

"I feel like I'm dying," she croaked between screams.

I nodded. I hated that it had to be her but I was glad to have someone else to share the experience with. It wasn't so terrifying anymore, certainly not as painful. "I know. It'll end soon. It'll be like falling asleep and you won't remember anything in the morning. And I'll be right here when you wake. I promise."

She chuckled, pulling us down onto our knees. Our arms were still wrapped around each other but I could feel her claws digging into my skin, her warmth turning into sweat where her skin met mine.

"If I don't… make this… I just want… want you to know…" she grunted. She stopped completely as her nose and mouth began to turn into a muzzle. She managed one final gasp of human breath, just enough to say, "I… love… you!"

And so, the wolf took me over.

We woke up the next morning covered in filth and bruises. Parts of me ached that I didn't know _could_ ache and yet, strangely enough, I felt extremely satisfied. Because Nina was in my arms. Because Nina was cuddled up into my side. Because Nina was smiling and warm and, for just a moment, still loved me like I was the last man on this earth. Maybe I was to her.

I tried to stand and she stirred but didn't wake. "Nina," I called, shaking her gently. "It's over, sweetheart. Come on. Mitchell will be here to let us out in a few."

She chuckled and stretched. I saw the new scars then, the claw marks down her thigh. "I'm sure he'll just love seeing _me_ here."

"I believe the words 'freak the fuck out' come to mind."

I picked up our bag of clothes from the corner and started to dress. Her smiled began to wither as she watched me. "It's really done?" she asked softly. I saw fear in her eyes for the first time.

I nodded. "Yea. For 28 days, we're done." She gave a soft nod and I was left… curious.

Mitchell walked in and, after a quick, exasperated explanation, he agreed to relax and keep it from Annie. We'd tell her eventually, when Nina was ready. She'd never "come out" to anyone before and Annie was a safe choice. It's not like she was going to run away screaming. She was pretty much confined to the house.

As soon as we got to the hospital, it was the same again. She ignored me, made stupid comments and shouted… it was as though we'd never hooked up at all. It was as though we never were. And I was left back in my little craft corner, discovering the great art of wire bending and jewelry making.

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**MITCHELL**

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Time is a funny, fickle thing when you live forever. Some moments pass by at the speed of light because you're too busy thinking about the inevitable future to notice the present. Others dwindle on by because you wait for something marvelous to happen, only to realize it never will. Not even in forever.

Annie was the epitome of the former. Lee and I were the sad, pathetic latter.

I wanted to fall in love with Lee. I needed to because she was a good thing, a reasonable thing. I visited her almost every day and, after a few weeks of consistent painting, she finished mourning and visited us as well. In a perfect world, I would live with her as long as I was able and feed from her as safely as she had taught me, but I did not love her. She kept me strong with her words alone. And she kept me sane by never once judging me for hiding away my feelings for Annie.

Lee knew she and I were supposed to fall in love and live happily ever after. She knew it was right but she never asked it of me, knowing all too well that my heart belonged with someone else. But now it'd been weeks and I was dying. Everyone saw it but nobody said anything. I'd stopped going to work last week because I could barely get out of bed anymore. Instead, I came to her. It was natural to come to her, effortless.

"You can't keep doing this, Mitchell," she scolded me over coffee as she used the back end of one of her paintbrushes to mix the sugar.

Nobody asked why I was always splattered with paint anymore. She'd managed to get it on every surface of her house so if I so much as leaned against a wall, I would be sporting a new shade all day. It was oil paint so of course, water and soap weren't very effective and I rarely bothered to remove it. It was a nice reminder of her, like she was always with me, keeping me strong.

I leaned over onto the coffee table and ended up covering my sleeve with a vibrant red. I nearly licked it off my shirt, believing it to be blood. I was seeing it everywhere. Lee saw my darkened eyes and reached over to grab my arm in her iron clutches.

"Mitchell, you're going to die if you don't feed," she whispered lovingly, her eyes the most concerned I'd ever seen. She set down her precious coffee and came around the table to kneel by my leg.

I tried to focus on her brilliant blue eyes as best I could but my once perfect vision had started to fade and all I saw was grey. I tried to speak but my expression told her everything she needed to hear. In a flash, she had me on my feet, her arm around my waist to keep me steady. She walked me to my car on the curb and drove me home.

Annie opened the door, her eyes wide. "Oh God! What's happened to him now?" she screeched, coming to hold me on my other side. They helped me up the stairs to my room and everything sort of went fuzzy after that. My eyes were too heavy to keep open so I let my last glimpse be of Annie and I fell asleep with a smile.

Just as I had begun to dream, their arguing startled my mind awake. I stayed immobile and not by choice but I could hear every word. They were fighting at the foot of my bed.

"Damn it, Annie, you knew he was in pain!" Lee shouted. "Why didn't you do anything?"

"Don't you dare blame it on me," she replied softly. "I offered. He refused."

Lee laughed in that humorless way she had lost a few weeks back. It hurt me to see her regress over me. "Annie, did you ever think to offer not your neck but your heart? Why are you two so bloody afraid? Why can't you admit you care?"

There was silence for a moment. "I don't understand," said Annie. "What does one thing have to do with the other?"

"He won't feed off you because he thinks that'd make him like Owen. He tells me things, even if he never actually says them. It's all over his face, Annie. You offered the wrong thing."

"What would it do, Lee? If I told him I loved him, what would it matter? He'd still die. He'd still refuse."

The voices got slightly more distant as a cold tear ran down the side of my cheek. I wanted to stand, to tell Annie… something. Anything. I didn't know the words and I was still frozen. It was the cruelest of prisons, this body of mine.

I heard objects fly and crash around the room.

"It'd mean something to _him_! If he wants to die, he should die knowing you love him. He should die _pure_," Lee continued loudly over the ruckus. I thought the roof was going to fall on our heads. I heard it creak, felt the room heat up around me. Warmer and warmer until I thought I'd finally caught fire.

Time passed. I heard whispers and footsteps and worried shouting, probably from George. That's when I smelled it. The blood. It was coming towards me, fresh and alive, and my eyes shot open. I had expected to see Annie with her grand offering. I had expected curls and a worried smile and frantic ranting about the oddest thing but no. It was just Lee. It was just us in my room, her delicious blood gathering at the back of my throat.

I refused to swallow.

"Please," Lee whispered as she hovered over me, her arm over my lips. "Do it for Annie. You can't die without telling her how you feel."

So I did. I swallowed. For Annie, because this wasn't over yet.

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**Reviews are better than shivers on a ghost. **


	5. Part Five

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**CHAPTER FIVE:  
**She's the One**  
**

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_So here's the big romantic climax, guys! It was supposed to be the finale but I've extended the story one more chapter. Please keep in mind that this is an M-rated story! Ye be warned.  
_

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_

**GEORGE**

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Her note was clear. She had given me a clear command – to meet her in our changing room – and a specific time. It was also emotionless. We hadn't looked at each other in the eye since the last full moon, hadn't feigned conversations in the elevator or joked at the hospital chairman's god-awful toupee.

What truly confused me was not the note. As I said, it was clear. What caught me off guard was the way she caressed my fingers as she slipped me the little piece of paper. I felt the spark then, perhaps the only time since her confession. Her words still echoed in my head.

"_I… love… you…"_

My poor heart buckled every time I thought about it. I propped the door open and waited for her. She slid inside precisely on time and shot me the kindest, smallest smile I'd seen all month. She sighed and placed her fists on her hips. I knew this stance well. She had come to some immovable decision. I sat on the remnants of the iron frame of an old bed and waited for her to speak.

"We can't keep doing this," she said in her commanding voice. Crap. She was serious. If she'd come to confess her never-ending love for me, I at least expected a few tears and a softer tone. But that wasn't like Nina. If she was going to be nice about something, she made sure I damn well knew she wasn't happy about it.

I might as well play along. "Doing what?"

"Okay, here's the deal, Dog Boy. I can't do this anymore. I can pretend to be angry about it. I can pretend I'm not afraid, but there'd be no point because every day you remind me of all the reasons I fell in love with you," she began but was forced to stop when her voice broke. I almost jumped, surprised by the by sudden burst of emotion. "I act like I don't notice but I see you with patients, with your friends… and as much as I know I should hate you for _scarring_ me all over again, I also know that I want to be with you more than I want to be angry at you over something that I know was not your fault."

I gulped, trying to take in everything she was spurting out at record speeds. "Nina, sweetheart, I need you to breathe."

She laughed almost hysterically and raked her hands through her hair. She turning her back on me and I waited a moment, my eyebrows raised. When she turned back around, ready to rant all over again, I was standing an inch from her, staring her down with lustful eyes. I pressed my lips to hers, effectively shutting her up. She fought it for about half a second before she wrapped her arms around my neck and deepened the kiss.

I rose up for air a few minutes later and whispered, "I love you too."

She smiled, smacked me across the head, and kissed me again. "This isn't something small, Dog Boy. I mean it. I—"

"Move in with me," I offered, cutting her off. I didn't have the patience for another rant, not when she smelled so damn good.

She shook her head and took a step back, resting her hands on my chest. "Honey, compare where _you_ live to where _I_ live, then rethink the question."

"I'm moving in with you?" I asked, unsure.

She smirked. "Think it over, love. In the meantime, strip."

I paused for a moment, realizing what she meant. I looked down at my hospital scrubs. In all my nights wandering naked through the forest, I don't I'd ever been happier or quicker about shedding my clothes.

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**ANNIE**

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I cowered downstairs in the kitchen while Lee sat with Mitchell. George came in looking slightly cheerier than usual as he held another one of Nina's notes to his heart. I ran into him, wrapping my arms around him as I sobbed incoherently.

"Annie? Annie, what's happened?" he asked but I just ducked as the painting of the cow in the living room smashed against the TV. "Oh no! Annie, not the TV! Anything but the TV!"

More items started flowing about the room and he rushed us into the kitchen, smacking me across the face to snap me back to reality. "It's Mitchell!" I hissed as he shook my shoulders. "He's upstairs and I think he's dying. You need to do something!"

"Do what?" He was as hysterical as I was. "Has he been injured?"

I shook my head adamantly. "He's hungry, George," I answered clearly, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"Shit…" he whispered and looked at the stairs. "Where's Lee? Is she up there with him?"

I nodded. "She brought him. She wants me… wants me to let him bite me."

"Didn't you already offer?" he asked, confused, beginning to head up the stairs.

I nodded. "He refused, George. He might as well have said he'd rather die than have me."

His wide eyes turned dark and narrow, coming to a realization I had yet to make. "Annie, you're hurting. You should be with him, not Lee. Forget about everything. I know he wants you."

I gulped. "He wants me? Or my blood?"

George bent down a little and held my face in his hands, his eyes fixed on mine. "He wants _you_. You should know that better than anyone. The way he looks at you… He doesn't smile around anyone else, love, not like that. Go on up. Take care of him, no matter what he says."

I shivered with fear but my hands clenched into fists. I slowly walked up the stairs and lingered outside his door. I shot a look at George at the bottom of the stairs and gained the last bit of courage I needed to put my hand on the knob. I went to turn it when I heard her scream. It was light, a scream of surprise rather than terror. It was followed by nervous laughter and I pushed in the door, already fuming.

There they were. In bed. They didn't even bother to lock the door or turn away or stop.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her arm extended out, with his lips on her wrist. A bloody knife slid off the sheets onto the floor and I jumped, gasping to keep the tears back. I covered my mouth with my hand but it was useless. Mitchell was staring right at me as he sucked Lee dry. She threw her head back and groaned and I felt like I had just walked in on some supremely intimate scene.

He let out a single tear then closed his eyes tight so he could continue without the scrutiny of my gaze. He wrapped an arm around her waist and rested her back onto the bed over his legs so she'd be comfortable.

I couldn't move. I didn't want to see it but I couldn't look away, like some horrific car accident. I started to sob, my hand still clasped painfully tight over my mouth. I felt two hands on my arm and I was being pulled away. It was George. He shut the door behind me, slammed it. I heard gasping inside and figured Mitchell had finally stopped and rose for air.

I had the image of him burnt into my head, his eyes dark and teeth bared like some animal as he sucked at Lee like she was the very old rag he'd warned me I'd become. She was putty in his hands, limp. I looked at George, realizing how hard it was for Mitchell to stop. My eyes told him everything, every fear. He opened the door and stormed inside to make sure Lee was still alive but his thundering footsteps were quickly silenced. Things started flying downstairs, everywhere.

I heard Lee's lighter steps coming towards the door and blinked away. I was suddenly in the kitchen, holding onto the fridge for strength. I expected her to go right past me but she didn't. She was holding onto her arm where a large cut was dripping blood onto her feet. She stopped before me and her eyes begged for help. I grabbed a clean dishtowel from the drawers beside me and applied pressure to her cut. She was just staring off as she did when something traumatic happened, the way she had disappeared into her mind when Mitchell first found her.

I helped her to the kitchen table and wet another towel, trying to stop the blood. "Don't worry," she finally whispered. "I'll be fine. I've had worse."

I knew she had been a toy to her brother's den of vampires but I didn't want to ask any questions. I knew Mitchell hadn't either. She didn't like to talk about it but, from time to time, she'd venture into the dark topic.

"I'm so sorry," she told me and my heart withered up. I was so horribly guilty that she'd had to relive that but it didn't seem to faze her as though she'd gotten used to being used. She was so much like Mitchell, so calm about the horrors of the world, that I felt even worse that I had ever been jealous. "It wasn't what it looked like. I know it can sometimes appear like more but it wasn't."

I nodded and pressed down harder. I didn't want to talk about this now so I changed the subject. "Do you need something for the cut? What do I do?"

"Some alcohol would be nice," she said. I nodded, made sure she had a good grip on that towel, and rushed upstairs to George's medicine cabinet. He was the only one who really needed healing, especially after unfortunate encounters in the woods. Dodging trees wasn't as easy as one might think, especially on four legs.

In the blink of an eye, I was back in the kitchen but Lee was over the sink, wiping away at the blood gently. Her eyes were blank. She took the bottle of rubbing alcohol from my hands and poured it over her arm. She winced lightly but I was the truly horrified one. If I could eat, I'd throw up in that moment.

I lingered back. "Doesn't that hurt?" I asked quietly, trying to watch and listen upstairs at the same time. Everything was quiet, too quiet.

She shrugged. "Every time. It's just another scar for the collection though. Not a big deal. He should be good for a few more months, as long as he takes it easy and avoids getting stabbed."

I chuckled but it came out as a weak, scratchy whimper. She looked back at me over her shoulder, her eyes tired and bruised like she hadn't slept in a bit. I thought Mitchell had said she was over her mourning period but maybe this was something else. Maybe it was an effect of the bite.

"Will he be—" I began but her fearsome eyes made me pause.

"I didn't think you'd be coming," she said. "I thought he was going to die. He'll be talking to your neck for a few days but at least the blood lust is gone for a while. If you're going to start feeding him, now is the time. He can control himself better when he's already had a taste. It won't hurt if you concentrate on something else. I dive into my paintings, all those beautiful, imaginary places. Try it."

With that, she handed me back the bloody towel and walked calmly back out into the streets on her way home, her job done. Mine was just beginning. I climbed the stairs slowly, terrified of what animal I'd find. I pushed in Mitchell's door and waited outside for some sign that it was safe for my heart to try again.

He was sitting on his bed, looking pensively to the wall where a window might be if his room had windows. He heard the creak of the door and his eyes flew to me. "Is she okay?" he asked, his voice a shadow of his cheery self.

I nodded and feigned a smile. I was so glad to see him… well, better. Fed. Whole.

He took in my harried appearance and continued, "Are _we_ okay? I know what that looked like."

I tilted my head and smiled more genuinely. I didn't respond though. I stepped inside and crawled across the bed, to his side above the sheets. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and I rested my head on his. He sniffed my hair shamelessly, gripping me closer. The warmth started again, that unexplainable desire I'd never felt with anyone else. The humanity of it all was stifling.

"I'm sorry I didn't let you help," he whispered. "Lee told me you must have thought she and I were… something."

"I know." Though I didn't until that moment, not for sure.

"I promised myself I'd never let anyone do that to her again, or to you, and then it got too late and I thought I was dying and all my stupid plans got shot to hell. Annie, I'm so sorry you had to walk in on that."

I just rolled my eyes. I was tired of apologies and explanations. "Does it _change_ anything, Mitchell?"

"You still want me to bite you? Even after seeing all that?"

I shrugged. "It looked… intimate."

He chuckled softly. "Your fascination with the horrific is beyond eerie. I heard what you said," he whispered, hiding his face in my hair. My eyes shot open. I went to deny things back and forth but he stopped me. "It's okay. It's all different now. We know why nobody's succeeded before. They die. I can't live without blood."

"Well I can't live without you!" I shouted. "If you heard what I said—"

"I won't try it again," he said in his sweetest voice. "I won't deny what I am anymore. I promise."

That quickly shut me up. We didn't try anything, didn't even try to move off the bed. We just lingered in each other's presence. George poked his head in since I'd left the door open, saw my head on Mitchell's shoulder – fully clothed – and visibly relaxed.

"I think I'll go make us some tea," he said calmly. He went to leave but stopped and turned back to us. "Oh! I forgot! Nina's asked me to move in with her. We just shagged on a filthy basement floor and I don't even care."

He let out a tiny giggle and went off like a giddy cartoon to make us tea. Mitchell and I straightened in bed, suddenly tense. It struck us suddenly what it meant. Not only had he decided that we would part with old traditions and barriers and misgivings about behavior… we'd be effectively living together. Alone. And a thousand new questions ran through my mind.

-----

**MITCHELL**

-----

It felt like there was a whole house standing between me and Annie. After George packed up his things and we helped him load it all into Nina's car, Annie and I just stood there on the porch, afraid to go inside. We faced the streets, our hands behind our backs as though afraid we couldn't control ourselves if we got inside. The sun was starting to annoy me so I took a deep breath and braved the quietness of the house.

Annie followed around dusk. I was sitting inside on the couch, afraid to go up to my room. She leaned up against the wall behind the TV and pursed her lips, watching me. I didn't let my attention wander to her beckoning eyes.

"Uhm… would you like some tea?" she asked. "Dinner, maybe? Well, not _dinner_, just… uh…"

She blushed and looked down at her feet. I chuckled because I hadn't even thought about blood since Lee saved me. "I'll just order a pizza, thanks," I answered and reached over for the phone. With a wave of her hand, the phone flew out of my grasp and into hers. She looked offended and I didn't understand why.

"Don't be ridiculous! Is my cooking so bad that you would order an entire pizza all for yourself?"

Was this an argument? It was hard to tell with Annie. She got downright violent over homeless puppies but only mildly offended during George's rants about her mug obsessions and midnight singing. "You know I love your cooking, Annie," I said in a droll voice. I couldn't believe that we'd been living together five minutes and already I was playing the bored husband. I'd technically lived with her over a year so I knew what I was expecting and how to respond to calm her down. "I would love some of that pasta you make. You know with the—"

"Ricotta cheese! " she squeaked, clapping with excitement. "I'll get right on it." She scurried off to the kitchen and, fifteen minutes later, I was enjoying the biggest plate of pasta I'd seen in years. She just sat there and watched me. I didn't question why she looked at me like that, only that there was love in her eyes.

I ate slowly because I knew it was late and I'd have to go to bed soon. When I'd finished and we'd cleared the table, I hadn't in me to try dessert. She made me some tea and then I stood and I heard her hold her breath. She looked away and held her mug in hand. I turned around at the base of the stairs and watched her get up to wash the mugs, her back to me.

"Aren't you coming?" I asked cautiously. Her hands froze and she let out that breath. "I'd like the company."

"I don't sleep," she reminded me in a low voice, looking up at me over her shoulder.

I smirked at her innocence. "I know. I just want… I nearly died, Annie. For the first time in a hundred years, I keep thinking I won't wake up. All I want is to see your face before I go, just in case."

She turned her attention back to the mug and whispered jaggedly, "I'll be up in a moment."

I slowly headed upstairs and showered. When I got out of the bathroom, she wasn't there yet. I sighed and climbed into bed, feeling a great pain on my joints. I knew it was just a heavy heart wearing down my body. I kept the light on for her, should she finally decide to come up and curled up on my side, clearing the left for her. I closed my eyes but I didn't sleep, waiting for her footsteps up the stairs.

I don't know how long it took her but she finally came up and my door creaked open. She took off her boots and slid in under the covers. She leaned over me and, probably thinking I was asleep, sighed and smoothed my hair back off my face. She kissed my cheek and said, "Goodnight, Mitchell. I'll be here when you wake. I promise."

For a whole week, it was so. She'd make me dinner, watch me eat, and I'd go up to bed. She'd wait a few minutes after my shower to climb in beside me and kiss me goodnight.

For that week, we were mostly silent around each other, sharing smiles and looks more than anything. Then, as though the icy wall between us had melted, we started talking again like George had never gone. She was lively again, vibrant. George visited her on days he didn't work and Lee passed by. God only knows what those two talked about. I never asked.

We spent Christmas alone, curled up under a sheet in the living room. I hadn't even tried to kiss her yet, which was mission. Then New Years came and I brought her to George and Nina's party. It was a sea of hospital people so we could slip away without any worry of detection, to the balcony overlooking the city. She gasped when she saw it and my hand wrapped around her waist naturally. She didn't even notice, already accustomed to my tiny, affectionate caresses.

The countdown sounded inside but she was too busy rambling about who-knows-what going down halfway across town. I just looked at her, waiting for her to notice I was there, that I wanted her. As the countdown drew closer to its end, she slowed her rant, feeling my eyes on her cheek. She laughed breathlessly and I took my chance. I turned her cheek and our lips met.

At first, it was awkward. We just stayed there, lip to lip, coming to terms with what was happening. Annie had told me she saw me as her eternal companion. She'd never said anything about wanting me physically the way I wanted her. Then, out of nowhere, her arm snaked around my neck and it was fireworks. I unleashed everything I'd been holding in all that time, all those nights when I had to feel the weight of her in bed next to me and do nothing.

Neither of us needed to breathe but we parted nonetheless, an instinct I suppose. We looked at each other, waiting for something to change but it never did. Only her new warmth, ever stronger.

"I'm sorry," she said automatically, covering her mouth. I burst out laughing.

"What the bloody hell could you possibly have to apologize for?" She shrugged, my hands moving up her back to press her closer to me. She went to speak but I figured it was my turn to let it all out. "Annie, I've wanted to kiss you for months, longer even."

"I'm sorry it took so long?" It was a question, not an answer.

I laughed and bent to kiss her neck. When I retreated to read her expression, I realized her eyes were huge and she was stuttering something. Did she think I was going to bite her? I laughed harder and rested my forehead on her shoulder.

She reached up to stroke my hair the way she knew I liked and we both relaxed after that. The first big milestone had passed and it looked like I wouldn't have to die a celibate monk after all.

We walked home together, hand in hand, and we went to bed together, hand in hand.

-----

I expected her to wake me every morning but, that day in February, she never did. I turned in bed and found her with her eyes closed, curled up facing me. She breathed evenly, serenely, and I knew she was dreaming. I held my breath, terrified of waking her. I had work in an hour but it didn't matter. I just wanted to watch her, wide-eyed, waiting for her to tell me absolutely everything she dreamed about.

George decided to check up on me, since I hadn't met him for work, and the phone woke her up. I cursed loudly and answered, "What the fuck is it?"

She gasped and looked around, disoriented. "Well someone's got a stick up his ass!" said George. "Where the hell are you, man? You were supposed to be here an hour ago!"

I groaned. "I was just—I'll be there in a second," I said and hung up rudely.

She looked me up and down. "What's wrong?" she asked.

I smiled and tossed the phone aside. I climbed back into bed and straddled her, too happy to care that she hadn't given me permission. "You, my dear, were sleeping. What did you see?"

"I… I don't remember. Guess that's best."

I nodded and kissed her. She giggled and deepened the kiss, pulling my body atop hers. She rolled us around and my hands started to pull back her usual gray sweater. She had so many freakin' layers! It's like they grew back or something because if I took off something, there was always something underneath.

She laughed when she noticed my furrowed brow, my level of concentration. She looked down, rolled her eyes, and pulled off everything in a single, swift motion. I gasped, marveling the sight of her bra for the very first time. She looked at me, silently daring me to take it all off.

"You should be at work," she said when I took too long.

I shook my head. "Screw work. God will forgive me." She reached back to remove the bra but I stopped her. "You sure?"

"Well, I have to warn you that it's been a while. By now, I'm sure they've changed a few things but I think I remember the mechanics of it."

I gulped, remembering my predicament. "I could bite you. I don't always have control."

"It's okay," she whispered, unsure. It was obvious. "I'll just float away somewhere if it's too much."

She might have been ready but I wasn't. She didn't know how truly uncontrollable I could get. It had been too long. I was getting hungry again. It wasn't safe to bite but my eyes were already dark and my fangs were only a kiss away.

"Want me to grab a knife downstairs?" she offered lightly. Lee had probably been talking to her about this.

I scoffed. "You really want to try this, don't you?"

"For the first time since we died, we don't have anything to lose, Mitchell," she said and all that uncertainty in her voice was suddenly gone. She slid off my pajama bottoms and positioned herself atop me. I held my breath, gritting my teeth as the animal threatened to unleash itself.

She bent over me to kiss my chest, unveiling her swan-like neck, and all hope was gone. I rolled us over and began to thrust inside her until she arched her back and called out my name. The lust was rising in my chest but I couldn't feel my arms anymore and the bed felt like it'd caught fire beneath my knees. I sat her up atop me and my hand went to push her curly hair aside, revealing her neck to me. I whimpered, begging her permission, but all I heard were the same melodic grunts in the background.

_She doesn't care what you are or what you've done,_ I told myself. _You can't kill her. She's the one. Let yourself have her. She's the one._

She screamed she loved me and I dug my teeth into her skin just as we both went over the edge.

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_I decided to extend this story by one more chapter, coming tomorrow, if not after. Blame schoolwork.  
_

**Reviews are better than intimate moments. **


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